


Name one hero who was happy.

by soulcase



Category: Haikyuu!!, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming of Age, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Growing Up, I'm Bad At Tagging, Inspired by The Song of Achilles, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Slow Burn, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26985520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulcase/pseuds/soulcase
Summary: He did not dare swear at the gods, but Tadashi secretly wished he could. Because see, the boy did die. And Tadashi realized why his mother never vocalized resistance. His father had always been right.What happened afterward was a blur and Tadashi only knew three things now. His name was Tadashi Yamaguchi and he was not a golden son. He never was going to be a king.So much has passed since then.///Tsukkiyama AU based on "The Song of Achilles" by Madeline Miller.Story Playlist: "we were like gods at the dawning of the world" - https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3N7I4x6otZtdt9KpycO2Pv?si=LY8EVoQ-QHekNPn6aqu0Bg
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 15
Kudos: 34





	1. “My father was a king and the son of kings.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> Posting my first fic in ... years. 
> 
> Will be a Tsukkiyama AU based on perhaps my most favorite novel ever The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller! <3
> 
> Please bear with me as I develop this story, my writing, and try to do justice to the relationships as best I can, as this was kind of a random and abrupt burst of an idea. 
> 
> Enjoy this first chapter and check out the end notes from me! <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: will be revising as i go along. please feel free to point out any mistakes you see!
> 
> NOTE: will likely be revising/rewriting the first few chapters at some point in time.

There he would sit in the middle of the field basking in the company of a bountiful forest feeling far less lonely than he would in his palace chambers or standing beside his father before the procession of subjects seeking audience with the king.

Tadashi would watch his father carefully, desperately searching for a twitch, a slight curve, anything to indicate his father was something but indifferent. But he only saw the king’s crow’s feet spreading further out from his narrowed eyes, growing more pronounced each day.

Sometimes his mother would join him in the woods on her better days, but she would never speak to him much. She never had. It wasn’t because she had nothing to say to her own son, but rather she didn’t feel that she needed to say anything. She only felt, and nothing else. His father loathed her for this idiotic inability to express her thoughts and never missed the opportunity to remind her that she was nothing but a simple wife who bore him a simpler son.

Tadashi Yamaguchi, heir to… he supposes it doesn’t matter anymore. In his father’s eyes, Tadashi could never be a king.

* * *

By the age of four, Tadashi refused to speak. By age six, Tadashi had not yet reached a height that leveled with his father’s shoulders. By age eight, Tadashi wished for companionship.

That's when his father knew, he thinks.

The king had not expected his son to participate in the races against other young princes. He said to Tadashi that his legs and feet had not been trained to withstand splinters and pebbles, let alone to stand solitary on altars and lead a kingdom to follow behind his heels.

So instead of calling upon a young maiden, or even perhaps an advisor, he let Tadashi hold the winner's wreath while he looked over a crowd of boys he wished to call son. Tadashi almost wished for the same as he saw a flash of gold among a monotonous row of dusty browns swiftly run ahead, ahead, and further ahead. Tall, spirited, a winner. Tadashi almost doesn't, but he forces himself to hand the bright boy the wreath which was rightfully his. In exchange, the boy offered Tadashi a slight bow and a brief smile that still seemed so lined with victory and so light with youth. Looking down at him, still, Tadashi thinks. With golden eyes, of course, that mock his plain ones. He looked graceful, strong. At the time, there was no need to remember the golden boy's name. He was a prince who truly had been born to be a king---the semblance of a god, Tadashi thinks. That's simply the way of the world.

By age ten, the king said to Tadashi that he could never be a king. And so Tadashi wished to learn of pebbles and splinters in the surrounding forest, but instead he would let the breeze lift tears off of his cheeks and follow it until they evaporated into nothing. He leaned against tree trunks and wished that instead of murky brown hair and freckled cheeks, he were a golden son.

* * *

Tadashi had been daydreaming in the forest the moment just before he became an exile.

Another young boy had been watching Tadashi from behind a large cypress, curiously watching the boy gather twigs of varying size only to meticulously stack them vertically, horizontally, diagonally. What was he making?

He noticed the boy wearing expensive linens, which seemed heavy draped over the boy's slender and delicate frame. The boy, aware he was trespassing on palace grounds, safely assumed that the boy fooling around with twigs must be Prince Tadashi. He wondered how the prince, the boy he would one day call king, did not shine brightly underneath the sun. Instead he sat in the dirt, under tessellated shadows, building some stupid box with sticks.

Decidedly, he walked toward the prince.

Tadashi, alarmed by the sudden noise caused by heavy footsteps crushing autumned* leaves. He momentarily cowered before a much larger, taller boy; though judging from the rosy plumpness of his cheeks and clumsy approach, the boy seemed about his age. Though this fact was obscured by dried mud smeared across his face and clothing, along with what seemed like deep hatred embedded in downward creases of his scowl.

“What is that?” asked the boy.

Tadashi hesitated, half-shocked, half-expecting it.

“Prince Tadashi,” was all Tadashi managed through clenched teeth. “I will not be denied being properly addressed by some village idiot.”

Tadashi remained quiet. It was something about this boy’s tactless manner of speaking to him. No titles, he was not used to that. Perhaps the boy did not know, but no, he should. He is the prince and soon-to-be king, of course this boy should know. His father may not see him that way, but for once Tadashi felt pride. Perhaps arrogance. Arrogance at the wrong moment; arrogance in his choice to ignore the young boy.

“Oi,” the boy replied menacingly. “To think you’re going to be the king with such a weak body. Can you even fight? All you’ve got is a foul mouth you can barely use. No one would even want to be your queen with all those splotches and dots on your face.”

Tadashi’s hand gripped the rock behind him.

“Is the king disappointed at having such a an ugly, unpromising son? Do those guards that protect you also look down on you? I bet…”

Tadashi looked up at him, an anger suddenly clouding rational thought, hindering attempts at propriety. He couldn’t even hear the boy anymore, all he wanted was silence. He wanted to scream but before he could do so,

“You don’t have friends and you play house because your father hates you? What a fucking loser you are! A lonely boy to be a lonely king. I tell you, I’d rather die than be you.”

Laughter.

A kick.

The most subtle of crashes.

Caused by tiny twigs flying upwards and scattering before crashing to the ground again.

Then it was Tadashi’s laugh. Or maybe it was a cry. Or a scream.

In all reality, it must have been silent.

No? That was the boy that now lay before him, silent and bleeding from who knows where... Yamaguchi's horrified gaze fixed on the indented side of the boy's skull.

* * *

He did not dare swear at the gods, but Tadashi secretly wished he could. Because see, the boy did die. And Tadashi realized why his mother never vocalized resistance. His father had always been right.

What happened afterward was a blur and Tadashi only knew three things now. His name was Tadashi Yamaguchi and he was not a golden son. He never was going to be a king.

So much has passed since then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this first chapter!!! I don't know what brought on this burst of creativity, but I am almost glad it happened. I've had writer's block for so long and it prompted me to reactivate my ao3 account after abandoning it back in 2015. 
> 
> So hello! Sorry for such little mention of Tsukishima in this chapter, but I'm sure you can guess where his brief moment was...  
> I'm not entirely sure how this will play out and what other relationships/characters I will be including from both the novel and Haikyu!!, as I'll try to balance the novel's content and the manga as best I can, so please forgive any blunders! 
> 
> *Autumned-Yes I made this adjective up. I don't know why I put it instead of autumned but this sounded... prettier? I don't have a reason I just prefer it. Thx hehe


	2. “There is no law that gods must be fair."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You will come with me to my training today and tomorrow. At the end of the week, we will go to my brother and I will tell him I request you as my companion.”
> 
> “Why… would you want that?”
> 
> “Because I do not want to lie,” replied Prince Kei, the faintest tint of pink appearing on the tips of his ears. 
> 
> He had said it so simply that all Tadashi could do was follow the golden boy to his private training.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! 
> 
> I don't know if you can gather, but I'm really excited to write these developments! 
> 
> Anyway, I'll spare you a long note, but please check the end for more notes! 
> 
> Thank you and enjoy!!! :)

Whether out of shame or out of spite, Tadashi expended no extra effort to say goodbye to his home or his  
father. His father didn’t seem to care all that much since the solution to his problem had been solved quietly and conveniently, with little to no damage done to the kingdom’s massive wealth.

King Daichi of the distant island Phthia was known for taking in young strays and exiles. Did he love these boys? Perhaps in his own way. Tadashi knew, however, that the king’s biggest motivator was the knowledge that under royal training, he could raise fine additions to the kingdom’s already renowned battalion. All his father had to do was pay a minor fee.

Tadashi wondered how much he might have been worth. He concluded not much if his father preferred to pay a one-time sum than raise his only son to manhood.

The now-exile packed lightly: a few books, a few linens, and a small wooden toy, a man in a chariot, gifted to him by his mother. She smiled sadly before handing the figurine to her son, who was now far past the age of playing with toys.

Tadashi did not object. He returned her smile and abruptly went in for a hug, hoping it would incite a verbal indication of pain, regret, or just…anything from her. She did not make a noise. But after a moment, the arms she had gently wrapped around her son tightened the embrace enough for Tadashi to notice she was trembling.

If she felt alone at all before, now she truly will be. As the thought passed, he squeezed her waist with as much strength as his frame allowed him, hoping she’d know he was sorry to leave her and that he did love her silent strength for understanding him just enough. For keeping him company in that far-too-large palace.

As she pulled away, eyes glossy, Tadashi feared complete breakdown. Compelled by a desire to evade her overwhelming display of emotions, he looked over his mother’s shoulder to see his father walking down the corridor, oblivious to the weight of silence in the other room.

That was what broke him.

* * *

When he arrived in Phthia, Tadashi was briefly separated from his belongings in order to greet King Daichi – no – now King Akiteru, he was informed, and express his gratitude for the king’s charity.

Except the king was gone for the day, so Tadashi was to greet the prince.

While waiting outside the prince’s door as the guard alerted the prince of a visitor, Tadashi could not help but sulk. “I’ve practiced a whole speech for the king and now I have to speak to his proud, snotty son not as a prince, but as a lowly orphan. I’m such a failure,” mumbled Tadashi to himself, hiding his face in his hands.

“You may enter,” said the guard from the doorway.

Tadashi entered a very large room with very little decoration until he noticed something which stopped him. He felt like running away.

“Hmmm,” hummed the prince with disinterest.

Like my father’s?

It was the boy from the races years ago… the prince with shaggy blond hair and pale skin.

He was playing with something. When Tadashi approached his bedside, he realized the prince was playing with the wooden chariot his mother gifted to him. Taken from what little belongings Tadashi chose to bring with him, there the prince held the most beloved of them between his long, calloused fingers.

Another offering for the golden son, the almost-god.

* * *

  
Little did he know, the boy was half-deity after all. Prince Kei’s mother was the beautiful sea nymph Kuroo, who against her will was promised to his father, King Daichi, as a reward for his loyalty to Zeus.

But King Daichi died not long ago, when Prince Kei was not yet prepared for kingship. His half-brother, Akiteru, from his father’s first marriage would now stand in as the king until Kuroo declared Kei ready to rule. Akiteru, despite his rightful claim, could not defy the sea nymph’s wishes. He would not admit to himself it was more than that.

Because, yes, Akiteru’s rule should be legitimate. But Kei Tsukishima’s godly ancestry trumped kinship. Kei was not the average brother in truth, nor would he be the average prince according to prophecy.

* * *

Tadashi couldn’t help but stare at the length of the boy’s limbs stretched across a large bed, which shifted as the boy turned to his side to face his visitor.

“That’s mine,” Tadashi said. Immediately regretting his blatant rudeness, he brought his hands to cover his mouth and froze. I am an idiot, he thinks.

After a generous pause, the boy sat up, waiting for Tadashi’s introduction, raising an impatient brow in confusion.

This boy’s movement reminded Tadashi of his script and forced himself to bow, fumbling his carefully-practiced oath.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. My lord, I-I’m Tadashi Yamaguchi, former prince of - former prince. I thank the king for his- his kindness in taking in another exile. I swear fealty to you, to your father the king, and to Phthia.”

Tadashi remained bent over for what felt like hours but was no longer than a few moments awaiting the prince’s reply.

“You are mistaken. King Akiteru is my brother. I, Prince Kei, thank you for your promise. You may rise.”

The boy’s eyes were fixed on Tadashi, and as much as Tadashi wanted to look away, he knew he couldn’t keep messing up this early. While maintaining eye contact, he evaded the only way he knew how: by looking at his own reflection in the prince’s amber eyes.

It didn’t anchor him at all. It pained him more than he could comprehend to see his failures in the eyes of the boy who was everything. Unconsciously, Tadashi lifted a hand to his freckles, Kei’s eyes carefully trailing the boy’s movement.

Had it not been for the overly-excited response of the guard, who feared Tadashi’s gesture indicated that the orphan meant harm toward the prince, Prince Kei might have reached out toward the orphaned prince, whose pain seemed to resonate throughout the room and in the dwindling sunlight that shone over half of his freckled face.

But after scolding the guard, Kei spoke, “Here is your toy. You will be alerted when to report for meals and trainings begin an hour after sunrise. Please rest for tomorrow. It will likely be a long day for you.”

Once again the prince sprawled himself across his bed and Tadashi was led out to his own quarters.

* * *

It took no more than a few days for Tadashi to begin skipping the training sessions. He opted instead to seek out small, hidden spaces. In pantry closets, dim corridors, or a small patch of forest adjacent to the training grounds. He would rather feel cramped than endure any more soreness and bruising.

None of the other boys remarked his absence. By and by, rumors of Tadashi’s act of violence spread among the boys, details surely exaggerated by their overactive imaginations.

Tadashi learned that of the hundred or so had-been princes that resided in the palace, he was one of the few who was there because they had committed a criminal offense.

Most boys were traded because financially, it was advantageous for their native countries. That, or they were the second or third or fourth son with no other prospects beside developing their military prowess and accumulating battle achievements.

They all had that in common, Tadashi decides. Whatever glory the gods denied them, they were condemned to claim it for themselves.

So, no one spoke to Tadashi, leaving him alone during dinner banquets and not bothering to expose his truancy. A few of the braver boys attempted to befriend Tadashi, but Tadashi pushed them away. He no longer needed a reason, he asserted. Spending his days alone was not all that different from his life before. He could bear it as long as he needed to and would face the consequences.

“Whatever they could be, they could not trouble me anymore than this barrenness,” Tadashi confided to the tall pine trees and fallen olives.

* * *

That night, Tadashi sat alone in the dinner hall. He preferred this.

To eat quietly and avoid the rowdiness of the other boys meant he could return to his room before the sun dipped below the horizon. He found comfort in watching the sun set and the coolness of dark eliminate the stuffiness of sweat and adrenaline hanging aloft.

However, that night, Prince Kei rotated his position in the hall to take a seat at the table where Tadashi ate. This drew a crowd of hyper-active boys to his quiet space. He was irritated, but not as much as Tadashi was.

Tadashi determined he would finish his meal and complete his nightly ritual regardless.

“Prince Kei, I heard that you can juggle!” said a boy with bright orange hair. “Please show us! Show us, show us, show us!”

Others joined in the chant. So as to avoid saying shut up, Prince Kei promptly grabbed three figs from the bowl set on table and began to toss them between his hands, slowly increasing his pace until the three individual fruits converged into one mesmerizing blur.

As the boys chanted, Tadashi’s gaze flickered to find the prince’s eyes already locked onto him. It would only be a moment before Tadashi pulled away, but the prince beckoned his attention again by yelling, “Here!”

Tadashi reached out to catch a sticky fig that subsequently burst in his palms and now leaked through the spaces between in his fingers. Tadashi frowned, looking up to see Prince Kei now eating the other figs, evidently avoiding conversation with the orange boy.

Tadashi felt a small smile form, creeping up his jaw and then his cheeks. He hadn’t remembered the last time someone offered him a small kindness without any ulterior motive.

He took the fig with him as he got up to return to his chambers, unaware that the prince’s eyes followed him until he disappeared from the dining hall.

* * *

“I thought you might be here,” a whispered voice suddenly said.

A startled Tadashi snapped back into forest to find he was joined by Prince Kei, who now crouched down beside him. They were eye-to-eye, making Tadashi extremely uncomfortable and sweaty.

“How did – how”

“What do you do out here so often? Usually, you switch from here to the food pantry in the cook’s quarters or the west corridor, but you’ve been coming out here more frequently. Why are you missing your trainings? The king’s taken notice, you know,” said Prince Kei while settling into a more comfortable position.

Tadashi did not understand. He couldn’t formulate a single thought except,

“How did you not make any noise?”

“I did make noise. I wasn’t trying to be careful. This isn’t like my trainings, and you are not a threat. I don’t need to be careful. Do I?”

“You train separately?”

“You would know if you went to your sessions.”

Tadashi blushed fiercely at this remark. He was embarrassed as yet again his failures were noted by someone important.

Had it been the king, Tadashi may not have felt so ashamed. But because here sat the prince - equal only in age, more significant in every other way imaginable - expressionless and throwing pebbles, nonchalantly disturbing his space, picking away at his insecurities until Tadashi felt like crumbling. The only thing that kept him upright was that the prince knew nothing of the details which led to his exile. If he did, he was graceful enough to avoid mentioning it.

Tadashi had never taken notice of the boy's voice, which sounded soft and silky despite the lack of strong emotions. He spoke like churned butter or a gentle sea breeze or...

“So, what will we tell my brother?” said the prince, finally looking back up.

His eyes widened a bit at noticing Tadashi’s red face, causing Tadashi to quickly invent a reply.

“Tell him I’m training with you!” he yelled.

Again, he put his hands up to his mouth, muffling his voice, “No, no, sorry! Um, well, you could if you want. You could say I join you for your training and-”

He stopped when he saw the prince frown.

“Tadashi, you’re suggesting I lie to my brother.”

Not a question, a matter of fact. The prince had addressed him by his name. Ta-da-shi. This gave Tadashi resolve.

“Yes.”

The prince drew some figure in the dirt with his finger, contemplating Tadashi’s short reply. With a sigh he stood up. He seemed to be waiting for something.

“Well? Come along. Hmm, I guess I order you to.”

“Huh?”

“You will come with me to my training today and tomorrow. At the end of the week, we will go to my brother and I will tell him I request you as my companion.”

“Why… would you want that?”

“Because you just suggested it. And I do not want to lie,” replied Prince Kei, the faintest tint of pink appearing on the tips of his ears.

He had said it so simply that all Tadashi could do was follow the golden boy to his private training.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it will be a very sloooow development I'm so sorry omg...
> 
> I will try my best to make the journey worth the read!!!!
> 
> I will be doing some interesting character placements, based on how I feel the characters will work best. So I'm sorry if it feels weird that Kuroo is Tsukishima's mother in this one, but again, I will do my best to write the roles as seamlessly as I can. 
> 
> Anyway, I really enjoyed writing this chapter and have some interesting ideas for background/minor relationships that def stray from the novel's original plot. 
> 
> I hope you're enjoying the story thus far! Please leave kudos/comments with feedback or concerns. Much love! <3


	3. “Exile might satisfy the anger of the living, but it did not appease the dead.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, my past doesn’t scare you?”
> 
> “Does my future scare you?”
> 
> “No.”
> 
> “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feeding you this next chapter. 
> 
> I've written these three chapters within a 24-hour span omg... 
> 
> I'm just trying to write as much as I can before midterms and lectures start to stack up and I might not be able to update. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you're enjoying it so far. Now is where the plot starts to pick up a bit! Sorry if this slow build-up isn't your thing, I hope to pick up the pace in upcoming chapters. 
> 
> For now, enjoy chapter 3!!! :-)

“Do you know what this boy has done to merit exile?” asked the king to his younger brother.

“I do not care.”

“You will be king one day soon, you might want to start.”

While King Akiteru spoke to Prince Kei, his tone was neutral, as was his expression. Just then, the king shifted his attention toward Tadashi, offering the boy a sympathetic smile that read, _“I’m sorry I have to do this.”_

Tadashi shifted uncomfortably, trying not to let the weight in the pit of his stomach drag him down onto his knees. He was a former prince. He wanted to preserve the little dignity he had left.

He just didn’t want Prince Kei to look at him any differently, and he didn’t want to be removed from his side.

Interestingly enough, the past few days they had spent together felt like fun.

* * *

“From today onward, this boy will join me during my lessons,” remarked Prince Kei to his music instructor.

“Does the king know about this?”  
“Not yet. I have recently chosen him as my therapon and will notify my brother upon his return from his travels. May we begin the lesson? I have been practicing on my lyre and want to show you my progress on the piece you gave me last week.”

The instructor looked at Tadashi with evident skepticism. Tadashi understood that he appeared unworthy of standing next to the prince. If he were in danger, what could Tadashi do to protect him? In the face of scrutiny, would Tadashi have the courage to stand proudly by the prince’s side?

Tadashi looked down at his feet, at the scrapes and blisters from walking barefoot on rough wilderness. He looked at his robes, which looked frumpy on his undeveloped limbs. Sure, he was only 11, but he felt as though he still had the body he had when he was 8.

“Tadashi, you may sit here and watch me play,” said the prince as he pushed a stool toward Tadashi, interrupting the boy's moment of reflection.

Tadashi took it and sat.

“Do you play?” asked the instructor.

Tadashi, unsure if he was allowed to answer, looked toward Prince Kei, who was distracted setting up his station.

“N-no.”

Do you wish to learn?”

Again, Tadashi looked over.

“May I just observe for today?”

The instructor bowed slightly before walking back over to the prince to begin that day’s lesson.

* * *

Tadashi found that could not pull his eyes away.

He watched the prince strum the lyre with a delicacy that produced sweet, tender music. Tadashi felt the hairs along the back of his neck rise, his hands became clammy, and he swore if this continued, he would bear all of his pain right there before the prince and the instructor.

It didn’t seem that Kei was devoting much effort, leading Tadashi to wonder whether the golden boy's innate talent was a byproduct of having a god’s blood.

If that were the case, he would refuse to cry for the gods. But in the way Kei had his lids half-closed, swayed his head to move along to the beautiful sounds his lyre playing created, and then met Tadashi’s eyes for a brief moment…

Was the twang that hit him with a most gentle violence from the lyre strings or his own heart skipping a beat?

He would never quite figure it out. In his playing, Tadashi forgot about time and remembered himself - from before exile, perhaps from before his life even began. He would never completely know what it meant that the prince's presence could draw out the hidden parts of himself he had forgotten were there, but he was sure that this was something like happiness.

For it, he had only the boy before him to thank – Prince Kei saturated in a bright light and playing a beautiful lyre.

Before he realized it, the music ceased.

Prince Kei stood up and walked toward Tadashi.

“Now, I must go to my combat training, but you can’t come with me. It’s the rule and… Are you alright?”

Tadashi, still in a daze, replied, “Yes. Why can’t I go with you?”

“Well no one is allowed to see me fight. Prophecy, apparently. Besides, would you even want to see me bruised or bloodied? You can just wait for me out on the shore.”

The prince might have meant for that last bit to be humorous or light-hearted, but Tadashi stood suddenly paralyzed. He only saw the vision of an indented skull before he nodded and replied,

“Okay.”

* * *

“Tadashi Yamaguchi killed another boy. Then, his father paid to have him sent here. Do you still wish for this boy, given his past, to be your therapon, your companion?”

“I do,” Prince Kei responded firmly.

Then, he turned to Tadashi, who felt limp from exhaustion.

“Why did you kill that boy?”

Did the prince really expect him to answer here? Would the prince force Tadashi to finally confront himself?

With his mind reeling, an honest answer somehow escaped his lips.

“I do not know. I just know that I was in pain and I acted cowardly. I pay for it now, though, because I cannot erase the image of him from my mind.”

Tadashi knew he was looking at the other two while he responded, but he really could not see them. Did they even hear him?

The entire room felt fuzzy and Tadashi thought the scene before him was a dream. Dream or no dream, he heard the sincerity behind the prince’s next words:

“Okay.”

Prince Kei looked at his brother, who only bowed his head in agreement before bidding the two farewell and retreating to his chambers to sleep.

* * *

Tadashi moved into the prince’s room the next day and promptly became a fixture conjoined at the prince’s side.

It attracted the attention of many boys at first. Many boys who had seen the prince grow and decided years ago to set their sights on being the future king’s right hand. They were angry, rightfully so, thought Tadashi.

If he were in danger, what could Tadashi do to protect him? In the face of scrutiny, would Tadashi have the courage to stand proudly by the prince’s side?

* * *

After the initial uproar of it all, their lives became calm. They would attend Prince Kei’s music, art, mathematics, and literature lessons for a few hours each a day, save for the two days reserved for the prince’s combat training.

During their free hours, Tadashi was surprised to learn that the prince loved to play. They tossed objects among each other, picked pomegranates from trees, walked toward the shore, and swam in the shallow parts of the sea.

Tadashi learned many things about Prince Kei. He learned that his mother was a sea nymph and only at daybreak would he would go to the shore to speak with her. He learned Kei’s favorite fruit was strawberry. He learned that the prince snored. Softly, but still snored. He learned almost everything while sitting on the shore, in the forest, on their beds at night.

He learned the prince’s smile, a rare sight that made Tadashi’s spirit soar toward unfamiliar heights. This is what it feels to finally have a friend.

He did not admit this to the prince, because after all, though Tadashi’s spirit was as exuberant as a happy young child, it was as fragile as one, too.

* * *

One morning, after a visit with his mother, Kuroo, Prince Kei entered the room where Tadashi lay reading as he waited for his return.

“Good morning, my lord,” Tadashi said from behind his book.

“You don’t have to call me that,” said the prince sounding slightly out of breath.

“What would you prefer I call you?”

“I don’t prefer anything.”

Tadashi looked up from his book in confusion.

“If I just call you Kei in front of others, I might get scolded. I don’t want to get scolded because of you.”

“So, then don’t call me Kei.”

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to call you?”

“Anything, but not ‘my lord,’ please. It’s boring. Quite literally anything else would be okay.”

“Hmm, have you ever been given a nickname?”

“If I have, I do not know of it,” said the prince smugly.

Silence. Tadashi was thinking. Then he got it.

“Tsukki.”

“HUH?” It brought the prince to an upright position. “TSUKKI?”

Tadashi cackled, “I think you like it! Tsukki it is, you can’t take it back now!”

“No, no, no, no, no,” the prince said desperately. “My lord, say ‘my lord!’”

“I don’t think so Tsukki. You asked for it.”

Then Tsukki attempted to wrestle Tadashi into submission, which failed as it resulted in the both of them laughing on the floor.

A guard knocked, surely alarmed by the loud noises, “My lord, is everything alright?”

Tadashi replied, “TSUKKI IS JUST FI-”

The prince covered his mouth. “Yes, Ennoshita, everything is alright! Can you let Akiteru know Tadashi and I wish to sit in on the council this afternoon? Thank you!”

* * *

Another night, as the first star appeared in sky, Tadashi felt a sudden wave of bravery.

“Tsukki,” Tadashi ventured.

“Hmm?”

“What does this prophecy say about you?”

A lengthy pause.

“I don’t know all that much about it myself, honestly. I don’t feel like it’s worth talking about.”

“Please just answer me, honestly. That’s all I ask.”

“When you foolishly tried to challenge me to a duel the other week, you sounded just like this. Worked up for no reason. But I let you watch me fight. I think you can gather from that experience what the prophecy says about me.”

Tadashi stood up from his bed to look down at him. He didn’t understand why he started to feel angry, but it hurt him that Kei would not open up about this. He was his companion. How could Tadashi protect him if he didn't even know who or what he would need protection from?

He wondered. Then he decided to speak.

“I killed that boy because he did not address me by my royal title.”

Tadashi’s voice broke, his throat suddenly dry, but he continued.

“My father refused to do it, too. I was never going to be king, I know that. I-I’ve always known that! I was too frail, too sensitive, too stupid, too slow... too much myself to ever be like my father. My own rage led me to kill another boy! With my own hands." He had to pause, needing to replenish his emptied lungs with air, "And it would seem that was my prophecy.”

“Can it still be considered prophecy if you decide when it’s fulfilled?” Tsukki sat up now.

“I didn’t decide any of this. My father, my body, this life. The one time I did decide for myself, I ended up killing someone.”

After Tsukki heard Tadashi sniffle, the realization set in that this memory weighed more heavily on his friend's mind than he imagined. The prince sighed before he laid back down, facing the ceiling to avoid direct contact with the pain that he caught a glimpse of the first time he met Tadashi, the same pain making itself known now.

“I am, or will be, aristos achaion. The best of the Greeks. I will be the best warrior in the greatest war. I may become a god. Though, that bit is I think just my mother’s wish. That’s is all I know. I’ll know more once I’m older, I guess.”

Tadashi nodded, unsure of whether the prince could really see him.

“Why me?”

“Hmmm.”

“Honestly, please.”

Tsukki briefly looked at his friend as he contemplated a response. Tadashi didn't want reassurance, it felt like. It seemed like he was looking for a confirmation that his self-decided prophecy was true and that the prince thought so too. Tsukki didn't agree at all. Too bad for Tadashi, thought the prince.

“I remember you handing me the celebratory wreath. I remember when you arrived. You were a prince and yet you disliked war, laws, and formality. I didn’t understand it but in getting to know you, I think I can get why. I don’t have any deep reason, but I chose you to be my friend. Do you need a reason for that?”

“A friend?”

“Yes, I thought that much was obvious.”

“So, my past doesn’t scare you?”

“Does my future scare you?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Tadashi smiled. He was sure Tsukki was also smiling. Then, he heard a soft snore.

* * *

One night, Tsukki sat with Akiteru, Tadashi already retired for the evening.

“How does Tadashi fare?’

“He’s fine.”

“He’s an interesting boy, surely. But why select him and not any of the boys I’ve suggested before?”

“I’m a prince and he’s an exile. He follows me everywhere from a few steps behind me, so it’s not that different from the other boys. Except sometimes, it feels like he’s so far ahead, and all I want is to catch up to him. I find him interesting.”

Akiteru only looked at his brother, who was staring intensely into the fire.

“Akiteru, I think I will go to bed. Good night.”

“Good night, Tsukki.”

Akiteru chuckled at his brother’s bewildered reaction.

* * *

A few months turned into a year, then two, then three. They were still young, but the future was starting to catch up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your readership! 
> 
> I've been mirroring the novel's plot pretty closely, but I definitely plan to take more creative agency with the background relationships and events in the next chapters! (Cough cough... maybe some kagehina? ... Cough)
> 
> Also writing narration and dialogue using their given names instead of surnames is really hard. I always have to triple-check and I make a mistake at least twice... V frustrating, so I've cleverly trying to make it so that they call each other Tsukki and Yams. Taking shortcuts? YEs absolutely .
> 
> More characters and teen angst will enter the scene very soon...
> 
> BTW: the chapter titles are quotes from the book. If you haven't read "The Song of Achilles," please do! It's so absolutely beautiful. 4.5/5 for me! 
> 
> As always, please leave a kudos or comment with feedback! I want to know what you think about the story and Tsukkiyama's relationship so far!
> 
> Much love!!!


	4. “Is it not a sort of genius to cut always to the heart?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello reader, this chapter will be a bit shorter than the others and will take you back to a few scenes from Chapters 2 and 3, except this time we get Tsukki’s POV. 
> 
> I was struggling with what I wanted to do for this chapter, but see my end notes for a more clear explanation. 
> 
> I hope you still enjoy this chapter! :-)

“Here is your toy. You will be alerted when to report for meals and trainings begin an hour after sunrise. Please rest for tomorrow. It will likely be a long day for you.”

Once again, the prince sprawled himself across his bed as Tadashi was led out of his quarters.

The door closes, and Prince Kei lets out a long sigh. _How long had he been holding his breath?_

* * *

The prince steps onto a balcony an hour after sunrise. He makes sure to dip low, chin just barely resting on the cool stone barrier separating him from falling an indeterminate distance down from the ground.

He had never observed the combat training the other exiles undergo, so that day he decides to watch before he reported to his lessons.

In all honesty, he wants to see what the boy he met yesterday would be like on the battlefield. _His name, his name.. What was it?_

Involuntarily, he straightens up a bit when he sees the boy with the mossy-brown, unkempt bedhead step onto the grass. Tadashi was his name, he remembers.

He watches the boy wander aimlessly among the crowd, waiting for direction. He watches the boy stumble, fumble with holding a sword, miss every target because he was too clumsy with a bow and arrow. He watches the boy hesitate with every action, only get scolded for folding in hand-to-hand combat. He watches the boy admit defeat.

Tadashi flinches when someone strikes, even if it’s not aimed toward him. He can’t stand to look at blood and squints hard when an injured boy screams. But one day someone calls him a coward and laughs until another boy whispers something into the bully’s ear. Whatever he whispers ends the laughing fit abruptly, as they scuffle away. Tadashi never once lifts his eyes up from the ground. 

And the prince watches this same routine for another few days until he notices the boy no longer bothers to show up.

Prince Kei doesn’t think that he’s cowardly. He thinks those that understand war and its horrors would probably know better than to flaunt a weapon they don’t yet know how to hold. The prince thinks it’s like the boy is wandering through his own mental battlefield, his fear and hatred mistaken for physical cowardice. _This one is different from the others - those who grab swords with a wobbly posture and wide grin, flaunting them, unable to see they’ve been defeated before the battle’s begun_.

* * *

He sat at the opposite end of the long table where Tadashi sat with the intention of asking him where he goes when he skips training. He seemed easy enough to approach, but of course, a crowd of pestering boys just had to follow him.

He hated their sycophantic praise. All wanted to be his right hand and share his prophetic glory. That, or they were just dumb. Much like the loud orange boy next to him, begging him to juggle figs until his pestering became a chorus of indiscriminate voices. To silence them, he reached to take the figs. He noticed Tadashi wasn’t paying him any mind and poking at his leftovers with his fork. He noted Tadashi did not leave, which made him optimistic. Maybe he would want to see his juggling.

The prince felt sorry that he brought such a heavy atmosphere with him; he really hadn’t meant to. _I’ll send him an apology_. “Here!” he yelled, managing to toss one of the figs in his hands while the other was still suspended in the air.

It wasn’t exactly a self-gratifying act, but the prince felt relieved that the boy did not throw the fig back in his face.

* * *

To be honest, he felt insecure. When he approached Tadashi in the forest and forced him along to his trainings, he was acutely aware of the boy’s big eyes watching him carefully. The prince hadn’t considered whether Tadashi even trusted him, wanted to be his companion. He felt drawn to him because of that itch of curiosity stemming from Tadashi’s resistance to order. Or maybe it wasn’t resistance, but a sort of dissonance.

_Did he force this boy into some sort of assimilation? What was even his intention?_

_Would the pressure change him?_

* * *

He somehow manages to catch several glimpses of Tadashi watching him play.

Tadashi looks on intensely as though he’s trying to figure the music out. The music isn’t the mystery, here, thinks the prince.

* * *

“You can’t possibly want someone like him as your companion. I will make you a god one day and having someone as insignificant as that murderous orphan by your side would be nothing but a hindrance. A stain. Do you understand?”

Prince Kei’s mother Kuroo stood before him – a sea nymph unthinkably tall, eerily beautiful with glistening skin and jet black long, voluminous hair that falls forward to frame an acute jawline, but her voice bellows through sharp teeth with agony, bitterness, and disdain. Sometimes, much like in that moment, it pains the ear to hear it.

“I can’t say that I do. But I will not replace him. I know what he has done, and I still think him a good person. He will grow to be a good man. Should I not trust my own judgement, if I am to be a god?”

“You know nothing of them. That boy you seem to be so fond of likely knows more of their duplicity,” she bit back.

“Then, to have him by my side would sure help me to see better?”

She growled in frustration, baring her teeth and clenching her long fingers until the skin under knuckles looked like it was about to rip.

“There is so much more that you do not know,” she said almost… sadly? “He will just hold you back. The prophecy says-”

“No more than any of those other mindless boys would. A prophecy can’t be concerned with whom I select as a companion; it doesn’t live or breathe. I have chosen Tadashi, and the prophecy cannot speak for me on this matter,” the prince stated, feeling rather annoyed with his mother.

“You will tell him I wish to speak to him here in three day’s time. As soon as he wakes, he should come. I will know when he arrives. Until then, my prince.”

 _It’s always my prince, my lord, Kei. Never my son, never my love_ , he noted as he watched her float back toward the sea until a wave lured her under.

* * *

He decides he likes the nickname, “Tsukki,” when Tadashi laughs. But Tsukki notices some of Tadashi’s freckles disappear in the crinkles of his nose and creases around his eyes, which causes him to frown.

* * *

“I have to go now; we can come back here later,” Tsukki said as he got up.

Tadashi nodded.

“You don’t have to wait for me. I will just find you wherever you wander off to.”

Tadashi looked up, his entire face bright with wonder.

“Okay! I’ll see you soon!”

* * *

As Tsukki walked toward his lessons, he stopped to see the orange-haired boy sitting next to a raven-haired boy under an arch across the courtyard. Tsukki watched as they bickered, scowling because he could hear their loud and obnoxious voices.

He wondered why they were in this obscure part of the palace where no one passed except the prince when he walked to his lessons or the servants from their quarters. Perhaps they were trying to catch a glimpse of some of the maidens as they passed, considering they both seemed airheaded enough to be worried about that sort of thing.

However, the air suddenly grew quiet, and Tsukki’s eyes widened when he saw the orange-haired boy blush and look down before hesitantly resting his head on the other boy’s shoulder. The raven-haired boy relaxed a bit as he did so, allowing a small smile to betray the tough exterior he sported a moment ago.

Their fingers danced around each other, but before there would be any handholding, the orange-haired boy suddenly sprung to his feet. The raven-haired boy did the same.

Tsukki snapped out of his bewilderment to realize the sincere expressions they wore moments ago had expired. They had noticed the prince watching them, and now they were horrified. With his breath caught in his throat, Tsukki avoided their eyes and abruptly continued on toward his lessons.

_What had they been doing? Why? Was it loneliness that he was feeling, now?_

* * *

Later that night, Tsukki acted awkwardly and had a hard time hiding it from Tadashi. He had stated that he felt unwell. Maybe it had been the food at dinner that upset him.

He was still thinking about the two boys from earlier. Should he confront them? He really wanted to ask them something, but he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.

Tadashi reacted with an irrational amount of alarm, thinking Tsukki’s quiet reflection was a definite sign of oncoming death, but the prince reassured him about 5 or so times that he was just fine – that he didn’t want to worry his brother with calling doctors.

He suggested an alternative remedy: that Tadashi tell lame jokes or try to quiz him with useless trivia, so he could sleep away the pain.

Tadashi pouted and hit Tsukki with his pillow. He was relieved that Tadashi was at last getting more comfortable around him.

* * *

“Tadashi, are you asleep yet?”

Tadashi mumbles, “I almost was. Are you okay? Need a doctor after all?”

“No, no. It’s not that. I just wanted to ask you a question.”

“Okay?” Tadashi sounded nervous, the shakiness of his voice amplified by the absolute dark surrounding them.

Tsukki pauses. Here it comes.

“Can… Can I call you Yams?”

Tadashi chuckles. Tsukki let out the breath he was holding.

“Well, let me sleep on it.”

 _The audacity_. Tsukki huffs and props himself up on his elbow, looking through the dark toward Tadashi’s bed. He hopes that, somehow, he can hear his glare. “Hey! I let you-”

“But I’m sure morning Yams will say yes,” Tadashi says softly before he drifts back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized the first few chapters was very Yams-heavy, which is my intention considering his role in the overall story. 
> 
> But I didn’t want to leave out Tsukki and what he thinks of Yams before I begin developing their romantic relationship. So, the best way I thought to do this would be this chapter examining Tsukki’s initial curiosity and his feelings of friendship toward Yams using a few previous scenes together and a few others. 
> 
> I don’t know.. It’s not that I didn’t like this chapter, since I felt it was necessary, but I think it’s because I feel kind of weird since I wanted to move the plot along and this kind of went back? Maybe I’m just being insecure… I know promised more plot development, and the next chapter WILL pick up the pace. Forgive me, forgive me for going back on that in this chapter. 
> 
> Also, if my English profs read this, they'd say my verb tense is inconsistent! But I'm here tell you that the switches are intentional!!! And I'll reveal why at a later point in time. (Please let me know if it makes the story hard to read though!!)
> 
> Though, I hope that little kagehina cliffhanger is a sweet treat to keep you tuned in, hehe. ;-) 
> 
> Please leave comments with feedback or a kudos to let me know what you’re thinking of this chapter/the pacing/the story!
> 
> As always, much love. <3


	5. “Who was he if not destined for fame?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so this chapter’s exciting but kind of sad so buckle in!!! 
> 
> Please check out the endnotes for important updates!!!
> 
> enjoy! :-)

Yams was picking at the skin around fingernails the entire walk to shore. He had a mind to turn back and avoid the conversation entirely. The only reason he continued marching on was not that he was scared of the nymph Kuroo casting some life-long curse over him, but because he couldn’t bear to disappoint Tsukki.

He found that when Tsukki frowned in frustration or disappointment, Yam’s whole body went limp, consumed by an irrational fear that Tsukki had grown bored of his company.

So, he wouldn’t disappoint him. It was that simple.

He regretted not bringing the nymph a gift, even after Tsukki repeatedly said his mother would likely just reject any offering regardless of the generous intent behind it. _All I’ll have to offer her then is this image of myself, even more regrettable,_ Tadashi thought.

He stood on the shore waiting for the nymph, looking carefully behind each violent crash of bubbling seafoam for the reveal of a majestic, ethereal apparition.

However, he blinks and what the opening of his eyelids unveil is the sudden appearance of a tall, pale, soaking woman, who perhaps is twice his current height, glowing but not radiating warmth in any sense of the word. Her lips were blood red and she wore a vulturish expression, sharpening her already-chiseled face.

She was beautiful, but she looked ready to rip Yams apart and leave his parts scattered across the world, his bones to fossilize on the shore.

“You are not worthy of my son, but I suspect you are already aware of it,” bellowed Kuroo, causing Yams to stumble back a little.

Normally, this comment would be like a club to Tadashi’s stomach, but it made him tighten what little muscle he had like it were a makeshift armor.

Kuroo scowled, “He will be a god. You will do nothing for him except hold him back from his destiny. Do you really think you’re ready to meet thousands of already-dead men in battle some number of years ahead? He will be admired, branded the greatest of heroes, and will shine so bright and victorious it will make mortal men sick with envy. He will be admired, praised, immortalized by everyone, and you, in turn, would be overshadowed and pitied by them. Eventually, Kei will join them. I will not have him regret anything; I will not have you ruin him. Do you understand this, Yamaguchi Tadashi?”

Yams was so angry but the words were lost on him. He wanted to grip the sand below him and throw it before him to obscure the sight of Kuroo. He restrained himself, knowing the sand would either slip through his fingers or blowback in his face and scratch his eyes.

“But he refuses to dismiss you,” Kuroo said after a long silence.

Tadashi looked up. _So, he’s already heard this speech before?_

He only had to know the answer to one question after that.

“What will you do if he does not abandon me?”

That was the question, after all. Judging by the way Kuroo looked at him, she required no explanation that Tadashi would only leave the prince’s side if he were forcibly torn away from him.

“You will die soon enough, and he will forget you not long after.”

Just as quickly as she appeared, Tadashi only had to blink before she was gone. Just him, a greyish sky, and the uproar of torrential waves.

“Who was he if he was not destined for fame?” Tadashi mumbled to himself. _But still, I don’t think he would forget._ Tadashi almost vocalizes this thought, but decides to keep it to himself, lest Kuroo overhears the comment _._

* * *

“Did my mother tell you she wants you dead?”

“Something like that. Not that exact phrasing, though.”

“Don’t worry about her, please. I’m really sorry if she scared you. She doesn’t understand us.”

“Us? I don’t think she’s thinking about me at all. It’s your destiny she’s concerned with.”

“Yeah, but obviously you’re a part of it now.”

“I am?”

“Of the few liberties I’m allowed, I chose you as my companion. And I will not abandon you. You definitely won’t die with me around. So, yeah, she’s thinking about us. But, like I said, you have _nothing_ to worry about when it comes to my mother.”

* * *

As it would turn out, Tsukki was right. Kuroo’s spite would become a trivial thing later down the line. Tadashi’s real reason for concern would be himself, all of his doubts and all of his loyalty. Those things were now interwoven with prophecy. And prophecy was lustful, vengeful, hungry. Insatiable.

* * *

Before they knew it, they were almost 16 and nothing had changed substantially except their bodies. Their routine was the same, they were still the essence of who they were at 11, just with more swearing and more wine, limbs longer and leaner, their days of growing pains becoming more and more distant.

Where most boys grew rowdy, Tsukki and Yams continued to explore and laugh together not really caring for the sort of thing most grown men considered rites of passage.

Such as? Sex.

Both boys are aware of the subject. The frequency with which they catch a young exile escape with a young maiden after dinner or hear noises behind closed doors while roaming at night increases daily, so it seems.

Neither of the two care to mention it to the other until Tadashi just has to know.

“Tsukki,” Yams begins hesitantly.

He watches his friend snuggle himself further into his own sheets. It makes Yams smile.

“Tsukki, is there… is there anyone you like?”

“Yams, what kind of question is that?” Tsukki mumbles, furrowing his brows while staring up at the ceiling.

“Well, yeah, I mean like is there anyone that you’re attracted to? Any of the maidens or maybe princesses you’ve seen at banquets and tournaments?” Yams internally curses himself for sounding so obviously embarrassed.

“No,” Tsukki huffs. “I don’t want to fuck any of them, if that’s what you’re asking.”

_Why does he sound angry?_

Tsukki sighs and turns onto his side to face the window on the opposite side of the room from Yams.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean for that to sound… so mean. Lately, my brother’s been talking about how a boy needs experience and should consider bedding one of the newer maidens. Apparently a prince rarely gets married without having that sort of experience. It’s really stupid and it’s annoying.”

_Married?_

“Sorry, Tsukki.”

“Shut up, Yams. It’s fine. I don’t think I can like anyone that way. Not right now. Don’t wanna.”

Yams won’t admit his heart feels just a little bit heavier at his words. He only mutters, “Okay, goodnight, then,” before turning to face away from the prince, suppressing his sniffles the best he can so that they don’t betray the silence that night brings.

* * *

Tsukki walked back to his chambers from a rare late-night visit with his mother. This happened every-so-often when her duties required her to be away for extended periods of time.

Sometimes, he preferred the night visits. The moonlight softened Kuroo somehow, maybe because she was exhausted and didn’t speak with such reserve and sternness. Or maybe because the moon was known to influence the motions of the sea more powerfully than the sun, so it allowed her the freedom to abandon her rigidness for a while.

On his way back, his tranquility was disturbed when heard what sounded like a piss-poor attempt to stifle moans coming from behind one of the pantry doors.

 _These idiots are like rabbits, for fuck’s sake._ Tsukki had no reason to be as angry as he was, but at the moment he felt irrationally upset.

He stomped his way over to the door and swung it open with all the strength of one of his arms. His eyes widened, he stepped back, and he tried to mumble something that his mind couldn’t quite piece together.

It was them. The raven-haired boy and the orange-haired boy caught in a compromising position by the prince.

The raven-haired boy quickly pushed apart their hips and released a now tangled bunch of orange hair from his grip. The orange boy started crying and fell to the ground as the raven boy apologized profusely, though through a scowl.

They looked horrified as the prince stood paralyzed. All he could mutter was a nearly inaudible, “my apologies for interrupting you,” before walking off, mind racing and wandering off, avoiding a distinct voice creeping up to the forefront of his mind that was asking him,

_“Tsukki, is there… is there anyone you like?”_

* * *

The next day, Tsukki does the unthinkable. He lies, telling Yams that he has a private meeting he must attend alone. _Prophecy or something._ Yams just smiles and nods, walking back to their rooms with a book Tsukki lent him tucked under his arm.

As he walks to the meeting hall typically reserved for gatherings among kings, he requests that Ennoshita pulls two boys from their training. He realizes he does not know their names, so he refers to one as “a boy with a head of conspicuous orange hair” and then instructs Ennoshita to ask that boy to call for his friend with raven hair.

“Tell them the prince requests to speak to them regarding the regiment’s progress. Thank you.”

Ennoshita bows, “Yes, my lord,” and quickly dismisses himself.

* * *

Both are avoiding his gaze. Understandable. Tsukki only looks at them with a puzzled expression because he’s unsure of what he even wanted to say to them.

“I…”

The orange jumps at the prince’s voice suddenly breaking the silence. He yelps, “We are so sorry! We are so so so sorry! We can explain everything! It was a MISUNDERSTANDING! Please don’t kill us!”

The prince’s expression sours because now the orange is sobbing again. The raven just swats his partner’s head before grabbing his hand momentarily.

Tsukki clears his throat when he sees their hands touch. The sobs stop. The two boys both look up at their prince.

  
“I will not punish you? That is not why I’ve had Ennoshita bring you. I… I have a few questions for you.”

Both boys tilt their heads in confusion and Tsukki almost laughs. _It’s like they share a brain._

The boys see the prince smile a little and relax ever so slightly, unaware he’s mentally making fun of them.

“What are your names?”

“Hinata Shoyo!” says the orange boy.

“Kageyama Tobio,” states the raven.

“What were you doing in the pantry?”

  
They stutter before the raven confidently answers, “We were looking for snacks.”

Now, Shoyo’s the one who smacks Tobio’s head.

“You’re a goddamn idiot! You really are,” Shoyo yells while pouting. “My lord. Tobio and I… We, well… We were doing it.”

Tobio sighs and covers his face with his palms.

“Huh?” snickers Tsukki.

“We were having sex!” growls Tobio. “What are you, Shoyo, a child? Look, my lord, we apologize for having sex in the closet. We will not do that anymore, we swear it. Please do not tell anyone else. Please forgive us so that we may return to our training and redeem ourselves.”

Tsukki wants to comment on the boy’s rude tone, but before he can, he remembers the whole point he brought them here. So, he lets the opportunity pass as he continues.

“Many years ago, I saw you two holding hands secretly, too. Now, this. I just wanted to ask why? Why did you do that? Both the hand-holding and… and yesterday.”

The boys look at each other confused before breaking into tender smiles.

“We like each other. We have for years,” explains Shoyo, shrugging as if it were the most natural answer in the world.

“But you’re both boys?” says the prince, clearly perplexed and curious by the boy’s nonchalant reply.

“And? What is that supposed to mean?” Tobio’s eyes are suddenly dark and angry. He was holding Shoyo’s hand firmly now.

“And,” Tsukki begins cautiously. He doesn’t really know how to conclude. “Nothing. I don’t care about that, I was just curious about both instances. I will not keep you from your trainings any longer. My apologies again for intruding, but I must ask that you don’t do that in common spaces anymore. Gods forbid, you both contaminate our food.”

“Thank you, my lord!” Both boys shout in unison, hurrying their bows before rushing out.

A few minutes later, Ennoshita enters the hall to find Tsukki staring out the window, evidently lost in his disarray of frenzied thoughts.

“Well, my lord, are you pleased with their report on the regiment’s efforts?”

“Yes. I think good progress is being made.” Ennoshita widens his eyes when he hears Tsukki’s reply honeyed by a faint smile.

* * *

Tsukki isn’t sure what to make of the conversation. His reflection isn’t really a reflection, but a study.

He thinks about a friend who is gentle and kind and sincere and somehow so strong despite being hated for existing across so many fronts - completely the opposite from him, who was destined to be universally admired before he was even conceived.

He thinks about a boy growing into a man. He thinks about a stranger-turned-confidante-turned-friend. He thinks about a fig bursting in hands that know war and hate it all the same. He thinks about loyalty. He thinks about that one night of confrontation and reassurance. He thinks about the scent of sandalwood that lingers after the boy when he wins their races. He thinks about freckles. He thinks about soft eyes. He thinks about a boy whose smile falters at the mention of a prince’s prophecy as opposed to widening with mischief. He thinks about a boy suspended in the background of one his memories, one where he’s killed another boy because he’s been provoked, and about how somehow he still pushes forward - the memory dissipating slowly, but surely. He thinks about a frail frame he found sitting solitary in a forest that has grown and continues to mold itself into someone new.

He’s thinking about love, but he’s only about 16, so he can’t quite place it yet.

At this moment, he just knows he’s thinking of Yams.

But, reader, love really only ever is defined with one word, isn’t it?

* * *

It’s one of the remaining days of summer, and his teachers have dismissed the pair from lessons early so that they can take in the last bits of warmth before the months of cold winds and gray skies.

Yams has grown significantly less shy since he first met Tsukki. Today, he’s unafraid to initiate a wrestling match in the sand, splash Tsukki relentlessly, challenge him to see who could catch the most fish. They place bets, with Yams winning. His prize would be hearing Tsukki sing some hackneyed love song before the boys at dinner, much to the prince’s horror.

For lunch, they have figs, of course, and cook their fish above a fire Tsukki sets up. There is a decent selection of cheeses to accompany some bread and wine they managed to snag earlier while the cooks were off-duty.

Times like these are Yams’s favorite because neither of them holds back anything in order to maintain appearances. They’re able to let down their shoulders and curse like aged warriors reminiscing their victories.

In this moment, Tsukki looks particularly breathtaking. His hair, which he has been growing out, is slightly damp, with grains of sand falling out each time he tilts his head back during a laughing fit. The wine in his chalice stains his lips a deep red. His skin had tanned and the contours of his muscles, where the skin dipped and rose again, are more visible.

Yams thinks nothing particularly strange of these musings. He often looked at Tsukki like this, because who had the strength to not marvel at such beauty? Yams would pity them.

Tsukki meets Yams’s gaze with his golden eyes, and Yams could not help but fixate on them. Long gone was his habit of evading them. Brown met gold with full reciprocity, looking at the reflection of waves crashing back and forth.

Tsukki smiles suddenly, and Yams could no longer afford to keep it to himself.

“You’re really beautiful, you know?”

The prince chokes, spitting out some of his wine, the same shade of rouge on his lips now appearing on the tips of his ears which makes Yams cover his giggle with his hand.

“Sorry to startle you, I just thought you should know.”

“No, it’s alright. But where did that come from?”

“I don’t know, you’re just sitting there so naturally, and the thought just passed through my mind.”

Tsukki couldn’t help but stare at Tadashi, who continued spreading cheese on his piece of half-eaten bread.

“Yams. You’re… you’re beautiful, too.”

“Huh?” said Yams, raising his brow in confusion.

“I don’t know. You’re just sitting there, eating like a barbarian, and the thought passed my mind.”

Yams slowly bit down on his bread, dubious about the sincerity behind the sudden compliment. Never had Tsukki been so direct, but then again neither had Yams.

“Okay, but you stuttered. Flattery won’t get you out of singing, you know. I won that prize fair and square!” Yams said while pointing at Tsukki.

But the prince had hardly heard a word of his reply, instead staring at a piece of cheese that remained by the corner of Yams’s mouth. Lifting his hand, he lowers the finger Yams had aimed toward him and then lifts his own hand back up again to flick away the piece of cheese stuck on his cheeks. Yams laughs awkwardly, unsure of the atmosphere that suddenly drapes over them. 

Tsukki's body shifts on its own accord, leaning toward Yams slowly, offering the other boy the opportunity to back out should he wish it.

But Yams didn’t. Maybe he was just confused, but he holds Tsukki’s gaze desperately, like he was afraid of the idea the prince would him suddenly pull back. The moment just almost finds them before Tsukki pauses momentarily. Yams feels impatient; he could feel their breaths comingling and it was making him restless.

The synchronicity between the crash of their lips and the roar of a wave crashing against land was something like magic. No one knows who truly initiated it. Who knows whether the raging sea is the first to crash against land, or if the land was the first to wait patiently, perpetually bracing itself for impact.

Tsukki leans into Yams, Yams leans into Tsukki, eventually causing them to fall back and tumble down onto the sand - their hands and limbs a tangled mess. Tsukki’s sure he’s spilled the rest of the wine and Yams feels the stickiness of crushed figs along their shins, but that’s all lost sensation to them.

Yams clings to him like he’s the only concrete thing there, hands running through dampened beach waves, nose slightly crushed against Tsukki’s, lips tingling because the boy he’s loved quietly all these years is kissing him back.

Perhaps this moment was inevitable and both boys knew it. They don’t even tear away to breathe, they just pull each other in closer, frantically exploring, like aged warriors anchoring their ship ashore, starved and thirsty for home.

Still, despite the clumsiness of their bodies, the kiss withheld all the unspoken intimacy and tenderness of their years spent together thus far. It really was like a crash, the kind that hits land with a passionate, raging force, followed by the bubbling, foamy aftermath which laps the knees, all-enveloping yet still gentle.

But in the next moment, that all disappears and now Yams feels sick, horrified of the potential consequences. Here he was, kissing the prince out in the open before all the gods to see.

How could he be so stupid? Had he just served to prove all of their doubts right? That he would stain the prince’s legacy? _Look at the situation we’re in right now._ And then the thoughts wouldn’t leave him alone.

Horrified, he suddenly shoves the prince off of him, forcing himself to stand up. With Tsukki still on the ground, they’re unleveled, but still their eyes meet momentarily and it almost shatters Yams’s entire world. Those same golden eyes he’d admired for so long now wore a look of emptiness and devastation, glossy with welling tears.

_I’ve disappointed him._

“I-I’m so sorry,” is the best Yams can manage before running off back to the palace, unsure yet of where he’ll hide.

Tsukki cries mostly out of confusion, but a part of him underneath the frustration knows why Yams pulls away. He curses himself for not considering what this would weigh on Yams’s mind. He knows, he understands. He just didn’t expect him to run away like that.

The prince of Phithia cries for the first time since the death of his father and buries his fists in the sand.

When the prince looks up, despite the blurriness of his vision, he can make out his mother’s silhouette far out along the water. The warmth of summer ends at that moment as chilly fog rolls in, spilled wine permanently stains, and abandoned lips are left to crave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I hope you enjoyed these developments!
> 
> Just wanted to let you know that I might be a little slower with future updates. I intend to have this be between 13-15 chapters, but the way this story is set up, it could very well go on for up to 20…. I guess we’ll just have to see where it takes us. 
> 
> These next couple of chapters will be kind of short but expect more fluff from this point on!!! ;-) I expect future chapters to be more lengthy, angsty, and complicated in terms of plot events, so I'll need to do more pre-planning than I’ve been doing up until now. 
> 
> Bear with me, please. As always, let me know if you see any mistakes or have feedback for me via comments and kudos!
> 
> Thank you for following this story, and always, always, always, much love. <3


	6. “We were like gods at the dawning of the world… we could see nothing else but the other.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! 
> 
> So, this chapter is a bit shorter than I intended it to be, and I don't think it's my best chapter :(, but I hope you'll still like it! :)
> 
> BTW: I made a playlist for this story! You can listen to it as you read / on your own time. It's kind of sad so be warned!! Here is the link: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3N7I4x6otZtdt9KpycO2Pv?si=6k_9OApDSrmTE0Cot_QZQA
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy this chapter and read the end notes for more info from me! <3

Later that evening, Yams finds himself alone at dinner for the first time in years. Scandalous whispers doused in curiosity, envy, and meanness bounced right off the marble into earshot.

_Has the prince finally washed his hands of him? Look at him, he looks so sad. He looks pathetic if you ask me. Maybe now the prince will finally select one of us!_

Just before, Yams had been hiding in one of the pantry closets he remembers being unused when he heard a number of guards marching toward the wing where his and Tsukki’s room was. He overhears scattered words like “Prince,” “leaving to Pelion,” “centaur named Shimada.” Out of worry that this was some form of divine punishment, Yams sprung from his hiding spot and followed the guards.

When they arrived, the guards stopped him from entering the room. He noted them taking out a number of crates and sacks and that’s when the panic set in for Yams. Had the prince really been so disgusted with him that he was leaving? Did he get punished because I was so foolish?

Yams saw Ennoshita walking out and ran to him with a thousand questions racing through his mind, but only managed one.

“Sir Ennoshita! Where is he? Where-where is he?”

Ennoshita offered a small smile, but the concern evidently seeped through. “Sorry, Sir Yamaguchi, the Nymph Kuroo has ordered Prince Kei to travel to Pelion to train with Shimada. She seems to be speeding up the fulfillment of his prophecy. Were you not informed of this?”

Yams could not respond as the air left his lungs and his blood ran still inside him. He felt like death. _No, this was worse_ , he decided. In five years, he never had to feel alone _because he had him_. He knew he would follow him in death, and should Tsukki die, Yams would surely die soon after - for he found that _he loved this world infinitely more_ with the golden prince by his side. Kuroo had known this and hated Yams for it, _for loving her son_ , though she would never admit it in such terms. So, as long as Kuroo orchestrated the timeline of the prince’s life, she would erase Yamaguchi Tadashi from the narrative. That was a consequence he was sure he would not be able to bear.

So Ennoshita stood there repeating his name in an effort to pull Yams from his own nightmare, but Yams simply turned back to walk to who knows where. Surely the other exiles would know by now, and Yams might as well confront the aftermath of the chaos he felt he brought on.

* * *

When Tadashi arrives back at the door of their room, he fears his items have been removed as well. _By orders of Kuroo._ When he enters, thankfully his bed is still intact, and his belongings remain untouched. But the bed next to him has been stripped clean of sheets, closet cleared of the prince’s robes, and all spare furniture covered with cloths. He starts to cry, letting out all of the devastations he’d been harboring quietly since that afternoon. He wonders if the prince even put up a fight. And then his crying turns to violent sobs as he knows its ridiculous to dwell on such weakness and insecurity, given that they were the reasons Kuroo deemed him a burden.

Yams does notice an abnormal lump in his sheets and when he lifts the covers he finds a note. _From Tsukki._ Immediately sitting upright, he tears open the seal with his trembling hands, eyes frantically looking over the note for some type of consolation or explanation.

** Yams, **

** My mother has seen and needless to say, she is angry. I am to leave this afternoon to Mount Pelion to be instructed by the centaur Shimada in all things war and battle. I’m sorry I must leave you. I promise you it was not my choice. I have many things I would like to say to you, though I’m unsure any of them are any comfort to you right now. I just want you to know you should not feel sorry for anything. Today was one of my favorite days, in spite of what interrupted it.  **

** You are still my appointed therapon, so I have instructed them to keep your things together. I don’t expect anything to change much, we’ll just be somewhere different. I expect I’ll be able to see you again soon.  **

** Tsukki. **

** P.S. I have accidentally packed your wooden chariot. My apologies.  **

Yams’s intense breakdown was now on a pause. Something about Tsukki's note feels off – not the sincerity of his message, though it does put Yams's heart at ease. But something else in the wording made him brave and hopeful.

Yams rereads the note several times, always lingering at the post scriptum _. He accidentally packed my wooden chariot?_

Finally, it clicks, and Yams starts laughing maniacally. Out of happiness, he begins to pack a sack with only a few robes and some of the snacks they had been hiding away. At daybreak, Yams sets out, clutching the note to his chest, hoping his assumption would be right as he entered the forest away from the castle. 

* * *

After hours of searching the nearby woods, Yams was nearly ready to admit he was lost and utterly wrong. He was tired, hungry, the scrapes on his knees ached, and he was sure there were splinters poking at his feet he would need to pull out later.

He cried in frustration because looking at the state of his body, he was reminded of his father. _Your_ _legs and feet are so weak that you can’t withstand splinters and pebbles? How do you expect yourself to stand alone on altars and lead a kingdom under your heels?_

He was right about it all. If only he could see Yams now. He should just return to the palace and continue living as a nameless, faceless exile. But before Yams can pick himself up to head back toward the castle and think up excuses for his sudden absence, he felt a heavy mass charge into his back and pin him face-down in the dirt.

Yams realizes that he didn’t bring any weapons with him; he thought he would have found Tsukki soon enough to avoid dealing with robbers and killers lurking just outside palace walls.

But apparently, he was wrong. He struggled against the weight, trying to kick backward and wriggle his hands free from his assailant, but it was no use. He was crying now, and quite honestly felt ready to give up. He lowered his head to the ground and closed his eyes, welcoming whatever fate had planned for him.

However, the assailant did not move from that position or apply more force. In fact, the assailant wasn’t harming him at all. His grip was tight, but not rough. The legs buried in his back were somehow not painful. Yams gasped at the recognition of sensation. This weight and these hands, he thought, I’ve grappled with them too many times to be mistaken.

“I was wondering when you were going to find me. I was waiting, but you kept wandering off. Have you really learned nothing in five years?” chuckled the prince in a smooth voice. “I suppose you did pick up on that hint though. Impressive, Yams. Quite impressive, actually. At least I know a way to always make you chase after me.”

They had been apart no more than a day, thought Yams to himself. “I think I would have found myself here sooner or later, regardless of your note.”

He couldn’t see the prince’s face, but he could tell he was smiling. He couldn’t tell that he was crying, but they would continue on to Pelion together, which was the only important fact for the two of them.

* * *

Though Kuroo had warned Shimada of the exile following her son to Pelion, she knew Shimada would not care about her wrath. He would either approve or reject the boy on his own terms, which infuriated her to no end.

She sat in the cold seawater, looking up to see the moon converted into a distorted shaped due to the waves raging above her. She knew her son was angry with her, but she had never seen him so angry to where he refused to look at her or reply. She warned him to respect her and her divinity, but not even that convinced him to look up from the remnants of a ruined picnic scattered throughout the sand.

She knew that her son thought she was rushing things forward. That by sending him to Pelion earlier than intended, the gods would be eager to immortalize him after seeing how he’s developed his art of war far more than Jason, Ajax, Perseus, and Heracles combined. He knew that she hated Tadashi. And she knows that his belief in her hatred is the only reason he is angered by her actions. That first bit didn’t matter at all.

And that scared her most. She knows better than anyone that with all her divinity, she can’t change prophecy. She only has the otherworldly insight to know how the story of her son unfolds. For that reason, Tadashi unnerves her. She had never met a mortal that knew the pains of prophecy and dismissed it anyway. That loyal devotion she had never seen even among the Olympians.

Part of her, whatever part of her that the divinity didn’t reach, found this endearing. She was scared for Tadashi just as much as her own son. Knowing that one day the Tsukki they know and love might become unrecognizable… well she supposes she could be decent enough to save both herself and the young exile from that pain. So, she tormented the exile, tried to scare him, threatened him. Yet, she failed. Maybe that’s why she never became a fully-fledged god herself.

She knows Tadashi has run after him. She knows Shimada will probably make room for him because Kei will ask for him to do so even if his cruel mother has forbidden it. And she feels just a tinge relieved. She knows fate is watching, and she hopes fate is also capable of feeling such a thing as fear.

* * *

Reader, I’ll tell you a secret that our protagonists do not yet know. Fate, as foreboding and unwavering as it claims to be, is truly a fickle thing. It’s moody and therefore malleable. I have described it as vengeful, hungry, and insatiable. Fate is a predator at the very top of the food chain, transcending whatever hierarchies man has constructed for himself; not even the most revered of the Olympian gods can change whatever trajectory fate forges. But it was not always this way. Whoever was the first scorned hero to deem fate a fearful being condemned it to a lonely existence. No one wants to meet their fate willingly. They’ll do anything they can to avoid it. And fate bears the weight of its own knowledge alone, however beautiful or tragic the ending to the story is.

When fate weaves the tale of the golden prince, it doesn’t foresee the young exile's significance at all. Fate recognizes the forgotten prince and watches their initial meeting with curiosity; then it finds itself astounded that these two boys can fearlessly construct a world where prophecy doesn’t concern them. Fate could almost weep. If fate’s reputation wasn’t centered around its appetite, it might have let them go. However, fate is tired and starving, and the entrance of the exile stirs the pot - changing everything this golden prince, the soon-to-be god is meant to be - challenging fate, enticing it. Fate caves into itself, and it cannot resist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so again, I actually intended this chapter to be much longer, with more scenes preceding that last bit of narration. But it felt right to me to leave it at that and just continue in the next chapter. This chapter really is about the idea of fate and introducing it as a sort of personified character, and developing Kuroo a little bit more. And continuing on with the plot would have thrown that whole thing off. Pelion will be an extremely special setting, so yes it deserves its own chapters. <3
> 
> I'm sure you guys can relate when you say the story writes itself, and I'm finding that to be the case no matter how much I plan and intend to stick to said plan. :') So, really, I can try to confine this fic to a certain number of chapters, but I'm now thinking it will take me a while to finish. Which I don't mind if you don't mind? 
> 
> And don't worry fluff will be coming soon! Once they're on Pelion a lot of (good) shit's gonna happen and things will be M O V I N G. 
> 
> Again, I made a playlist for this story! It's titled the same as this chapter, here's the link: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3N7I4x6otZtdt9KpycO2Pv?si=6k_9OApDSrmTE0Cot_QZQA
> 
> Let me know if you don't have Spotify, so I can just list the songs in the comments or someth! 
> 
> Okay, that's enough from me! Thanks for reading, comments and kudos are always appreciated!! Feedback or just to interact. Let me know what you think of the playlist? :)
> 
> Much love! <3


	7. “It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm officially one week covid-free baybee!!! + i have reached a 1k hits milestone on one of my oneshots! let's celebrate with some tsukkiyama, shall we? :)
> 
> if you read my last update, you might notice that this first part looks familiar. im reposting it, condensing it with the stuff i wrote for the next chapter. decided i liked the flow better this way, so i hope you don't mind.
> 
> happy reading!!! <3

When Tadashi first lays his eyes on the great centaur Shimada, he can’t help but cling to the prince’s forearm. He saw a beast, with a horse’s lower half and a man’s upper body. Had he not had an animal’s bottom, Tadashi might have thought him a regular citizen.

However, as Tsukki had explained on their walk, Shimada was a legendary teacher, the wisest of centaurs, one of few beings in existence who braces themselves for the wrath of the gods without fear of it. Such a creature was to train the prince in the art of war.  
  
Tadashi felt especially frail in the presence of aristos achaion and the great teacher that hovered over them both, but Shimada welcomed the companion with a playful smile.

“Do you wish to bring this boy along? Though your mother has instructed me to banish him from my cave should he follow?” the man’s voice bellowed throughout the surrounding forest.

“My mother has spoken to you?” Tsukishima spoke nervously.

“Yes. But I am asking you if you wish to bring this boy along despite her wishes?”

Tsukishima regained conviction with a strong, “I do.”

“Very well,” replied the centaur.

“You will not tell my mother?” he asks incredulously.

“Whether she discovers or I tell her myself is no matter. If she wishes you to be aristos achaion, then it is time for you to make the difficult decisions.”

“This does not seem like a difficult decision,” said Tsukishima, raising a skeptical brow.

“Oftentimes, young prince, it is the most trivial things that carry the most weight. But you will learn that better with time,” said the centaur, looking down at the two. The next moment a smile replaced his stern look, “Luckily, you will have my guidance. Now, my cave is quite a while uphill. Prince, you may climb on my back, and the other boy may cling onto your torso.”

As Tsukishima helped Tadashi mount onto Shimada’s back, both boys did their best to conceal their blushes as Tadashi wrapped his arms around Tsukishima’s neck and then his legs around the other’s waist. Averting their gazes. Mumbling quick thank you’s before Shimada began riding toward his cave.

* * *

They arrived as the sun began its descent below the horizon. The remaining light blanketed the entrance of a rose quartz cave with golden sheen.

Tadashi's jaw fell upon seeing it. Palaces were all marble and gold, but the freckled boy thought at that moment nothing could compare to a dwelling made entirely of crystal, with slightly transparent walls refracting light every which way.

Kei stood silently at his side, observing the way such light danced in his companion’s irises, lightly brushing across his cheeks.

He only half expected Tadashi to follow him after running away. And now there they were, atop a mountain where illustrious warriors trained for years, alone with only Shimada and the weight of their own prophecies.

And yet there was Kei with Tadashi. Secretly, the prince feared being alone. When he heard twigs breaking and saw that familiar figure crouching in the forest, that fear was released into the wind with a long exhale.

His vision began to blur, but he feared blinking, thinking he’d open his eyes to a solitary beach and grey skies. Turning away to face the entrance of the cave, he spoke almost inaudibly a statement meant for Tadashi alone.

“My mother cannot see us here.”

Tadashi turned his head, cocking it slightly to the side in momentary confusion, only to see the prince walking away from him, following Shimada through the entrance.

“Come along, Prince Tadashi. I will show you both to your room,” Shimada said. “Pardon, as travelers are far and few between, I only have one spare room. I hope you will not mind.”

* * *

By the time the boys had settled in and joined Shimada by a campfire for dinner, the topic of their kiss, as well as Tsukki’s remark about his mother, was long forgotten.

Quickly they had fallen back into the occasional banter and teasing between silently unpacking for their lives on Pelion. Afterward, they explored the nearby nature.

The cave was much larger than the two had originally thought.

It was a long winding hall with many rooms. Their own one of the last before the translucent, milky crystal met rough, opaque stone. It was not near Shimada’s own quarters, affording them quaint privacy.

Outside the cave, there was an infinite expanse of wilderness and a lake nearby where Shimada had set up a station for their dinner. That night, they were to eat roasted pig.

Shimada introduced himself more formally to the Tsukishima and Tadashi.

He informed them that each morning he was to privately counsel Tsukishima in war strategy, battle formations, how to lead an army. In the early afternoons, they would duel and hunt for food.

That left an empty gap between midday and early evenings.

“Is there anything Prince Tadashi wishes to learn?” asks Shimada, looking intently at the slender boy to his left.

Tadashi found himself flustered. Not because he lacked an answer to the centaur’s question, but because he had not been addressed as “prince” for nearly half of his life now. Or perhaps most of it, though his memory of home had been slipping away from him for years now.

His place was now next to the aristos achaion. With Tsukki, he was not a prince. He was a companion, his life-long friend.

Before his silence could draw out any longer, he asked Shimada, “What are those instruments you have hanging in the main room?”

“Those are instruments used in surgery,” said Shimada, earning a confused glance from Tadashi.

Shimada cleared his throat. “Ah, surgery is the term for a medical specialty. Say, for example, you gained an injury from battle… skin and muscle ruptured,” as he spoke, he traced a finger over one of Tsukishima’s biceps. “Surgery could mend the broken areas if done properly.”

Tadashi’s eyes widened. Instantly, he thought it might be a useful skill to learn. What would he do if Tsukki were to be brutally injured in battle? Perhaps Tadashi would be of use, then. Not just to the prince, but other warriors.

“However, surgery is complex and requires attention. You both will be here some time, I expect,” smiled Shimada. “I can begin with teaching you basic medical practice. Then, as you master the basics, by-and-by I will teach you how to perform various procedures.”

Tadashi nodded. “Yes, I would like that.”

To the centaur’s right, Tsukishima imperceptibly smiles into his chalice before he takes a sip of wine. He’s proud of Tadashi. That’s all.

* * *

“HEY! Tsukki, you still haven’t sung that love ballad I won!” yells a blissfully inebriated Tadashi.

Shimada was a shameless drunk with a high tolerance he enjoyed pushing, and tonight he would again with the two poor young princes in tow.

Tsukishima, however, had managed to control himself.

“That was only on the condition I would perform in the dining hall,” he refuted. It was useless.

“What kind of arichon arstos doesn’t keep his wor-word,” asked Tadashi with an exaggerated pout of his bottom lip.

“Aristos achaion,” Tsukki corrected. “And fine. But once it’s over we never speak of it again.”

Tadashi cheered and Shimada laughed heartily as Tsukishima stood in front of them and cleared his throat.

*****

_And you came,_

_leaving your father’s house,_

_yoking your chariot of gold._

_-_

_Some say an army of horsemen,_

_some of footsoldiers, some of ships,_

_is the fairest thing on the black earth,_

_but I say it is what one loves._

_-_

_That man to me seems equal to the gods,_

_the man who sits opposite you._

_-_

_I tell you_

_someone will remember us_

_in the future._

_-_

_I loved you, Atthis, long ago_

_even when you seemed to me_

_a small graceless child._

_-_

_Sweet mother, I can’t do my weaving—_

_Aphrodite has crushed me with desire_

_for a tender youth._

_*****_

The golden prince sang such praises, silently dedicating them to his sweet, drunk companion, assuming that he’d forget them all in the morning.

But with a voice as warm as the prince’s, Tadashi commits his words to memory with the senses of a sobered man: how his words were shaped and rounded around the edges, how their scent lingered in the air, and how gently they fell upon his ears. He would memorize them if he were drunk, if he were mad, if he were a stranger and such syllables were shelter from the brutal world outside.

* * *

Days passed and lessons began.

Shimada would not admit he had very little to teach the golden prince. The young prince learned the skill of planning attacks and predicting an enemy’s tactics at an astonishingly fast rate. When they quarreled, the prince adapted with ease unlike any of his past disciples.

When it came to Tadashi, Shimada found himself refreshed by the boy’s curiosity. Just when thought there were no more questions to be asked, Tadashi would approach in the evenings with a reflection, an inquiry, a theory. Sometimes Shimada would have an answer; other times, he excused himself to refer to a certain text in his library, and come to their next lesson with an answer.

He found himself challenged by both boys in unexpected ways. And was, for once, glad for the company.

One afternoon, when he was lecturing Tadashi about various parts of the brain, Tadashi had asked which part of the brain held a person’s identity.

Shimada looked at brain laid before them that had just been diced into various chunks of tissue and fat, then to the pages in his medical text, and found himself at a loss for words. He wasn’t sure he could identify from which animal he had preserved this brain. He looked at the terms on the page, realizing there were no passages about things like mechanisms of control or which parts were responsible for what.

He half-huffed, half-chuckled when he said, “You know, young prince, you ask many difficult questions. Even for me.”

“I’m sorry,” Tadashi said looking down at his feet.

“You needn’t apologize. I enjoy how busy your questions keep me.” Tadashi looked up and smiled at the centaur, who took a moment to think before continuing.

“There are theories, but I believe the truth is we don’t know where someone’s sense of who they are comes from. Whether that’s a matter of the brain, the body, the soul, or fate. Some think fate determines every piece of who you are. Others might tell you that your identity is made up of every memory you have at hand. I don’t know which is more bleak. I don’t think I like either answer.”

“Why not?”

“I have lived a long time. One might think that I have an armada of memories, that that makes me a very cohesive being. But the truth is, my origins are shrouded in a heavy fog. I barely remember the world from when I first came into existence. I have forgotten many things that most mortals know. Should the latter theory hold true, then I lose my identity the further I trot along.”

“And the first?”

“Then, that means we never have a chance. None of us. Not the gods. Not the mortals. Or, anyone in between. Then, I believe, there is no difference between Olympus, Earth, or the Underworld.”

“I, um, I’m not sure I quite understand.”

“Maybe I’m being too pessimistic, eh, young prince?”

“Are you?”

“I think the longer you live, the more time you have to lose yourself. I don’t think the gods could distinguish themselves in a mirror if they were stripped of their reign over certain domains. For that reason, they insert themselves in mortal affairs time and time again; to give themselves meaning where it has been lost to time, denied by other forces, or simply forgotten.”

“Shimada! Can you really say such things?” asked Tadashi nervously.

“No. But what will the gods do if they hear me? Begin yet another war?”

“Then, why do you teach Tsukki? And other heroes?”

“Maybe because I am an optimist, young prince. To show someone that honor is a weak armor, that to quantify glory by how many men fall dead on a barren field before them is the most perilous mistake a man can make. But you know that yourself already, thus I am put at little more at ease.”

Tadashi nodded, unsure of whether Shimada actually answered the question he asked. But he was sure the centaur answered a question he had yet to think of, so he was pleased.

“I think that’s enough for today’s lesson. I will clear this up. You should help Prince Kei prepare dinner.”

Tadashi bowed and turn to exit the room, but Shimada stopped him, placing a hand gently on his shoulder.

“Tadashi, theories are a trivial thing. I am eager for you to determine who you will become.” With that, Shimada turned to gather the pieces of the dissected brain.

* * *

Winter comes, and the boys find that crystal does not make an effective insulator.

Though Mediterranean weather does not normally feel too different from fall, they find the elevation enhances the weather by various degrees.

Shimada offers extra hides and tunics, but it offers little comfort at night.

One night, Tadashi’s shivers are particularly intense, and his teeth chatter incessantly. Tsukki can’t sleep.

“Yams,” the prince groans half-sleepily.

“I’m sorry, Tsukki,” Tadashi says apologetically.

“Come here,” gestures the prince, patting the space beside him.

“Are you—”

“Just come here. Otherwise, you won’t shut up.”

“I can’t help it,” Tadashi pouts, as he crawled under the prince’s covers.

“You know, you could have brought your blankets, too.”

“You should have said that in the first place! Let me go get them, then.” Tadashi begins to lift himself, but Tsukki reaches for his arm to stop him.

“It’s fine. We’ll manage like this,” declares the golden prince, pulling Yamaguchi’s back to press against his chest. He pulls up their covers to reach just under their chins, looping one arm around the other’s waist.

Tadashi steadies his breathing, praying the raging thuds in his chest can’t be felt where Tsukki’s arm rests. He could feel his companion’s breath gently tickle the back of his neck.

It was definitely one method of feeling warmer.

“Goodnight, Yams.”

“Goodnight, Tsukki.”

Tadashi doesn’t think he’s ever slept next to someone like this. He wonders if Tsukki has either. Yams wonders if he feels nervous at all about them laying together like this.

What if Shimada walked in on them? What would he assume? He thought perhaps he should sneak back into his own bed in order to spare the interrogations.

But when Tadashi tries to slither out from the covers, Tsukki’s arm tightens instinctively. Tadashi stiffens, fearing he has woken the other up. But when he lays back down and the other boy says nothing, and starts to snore lightly, he breathes and drifts to sleep.

* * *

This became a regular ritual throughout the winter. At some point, Tadashi ceased with the apprehension, and simply walked to Tsukki’s side of the room, and rolling onto the bed beside the prince.

One night, however, Tadashi was restless and had trouble falling asleep. He resisted tossing and turning so as to not wake the boy beside him.

Much to his dismay, laying in one position made his limbs stiff. He attempted to stretch his back, elongating his legs ever so slightly.

However, he soon regretted his actions when one of his leg brushed against something else that was stiff, something that was not a part of _his_ body. And then the thought of the sensation would not leave him alone. He shuffled his body as far away from the other as possible. He tried convincing himself he hadn’t felt anything at all: his mind was fooling him, his mind was in the gutter.

It was not as though he were unaware of erections. He had learned the anatomical terminology from Shimada during one of their lessons. But schooling aside, Tadashi was a teenage boy. Time to time, when Tsukki’s lessons were taking place, Tadashi would slip away to privately take care of his own ordeal. He tried not to feel shameful, part of him felt embarrassed each time he’d hobble back slightly sweaty, body limp, and a flush lingering over his cheeks. But how could he not when, during these secret sessions, his mind always wandered to one person, one image, one scenario?

Tadashi decided after the beach incident that such feelings would be a burden on them both.

The next night, Tadashi told the prince that he felt ill and would prefer to sleep alone. Tadashi couldn’t help but notice the prince’s downturned lips.

It was not a conversation either felt the need to push further.

* * *

Winter passes into spring and then summer. Before the boys had known it, a year had passed since arriving at Shimada’s cave.

When the next winter approached, Tsukki found himself thinking about what to do for Tadashi’s birthday.

Though they had never been big on celebrating birthdays on Phithia, the prince wanted to do something special for his companion. At the castle, such an ordeal would have been scrutinized by Akiteru, Kuroo, and the other exiles. But now that they were free from those shackles, Kei saw this as an opportunity to thank Tadashi.

Thank him for what? The prince asked himself this many times.

Kei knew that he was not the most expressive person. He was straightforward as a prince, but more elusive when it came to raw emotion. But he had thought of something he hoped would help him in his quest.

* * *

Tadashi's seventeenth birthday had been a great one. At sunrise, the boys bathed together in the lake and joined Shimada for a bountiful breakfast of fish, berries, loaves of bread, and wine. In the afternoon, Shimada rode them out to a nearby cliff, where boys read and looked out upon the sea.

Shimada gifted Tadashi his own set of surgical instruments as a means of promotion. From this point on, they would move past demonstrations, and Tadashi would begin performing his own operations on wounded animals and mixing his own balms and remedies.

Kei could not rip his eyes off of Tadashi, who, for the first time since they met, seemed completely unguarded. His smile shone with unadulterated joy. It was a sight that he would not mind seeing time and time again; he thought he would like the be the cause of such happiness, if at all possible.

Shimada permitted the boys a private dinner, at the prince’s request. He did not reveal this to Tadashi but cleverly excused himself early, leaving the boys by the fire and quickly granting Kei an encouraging smile.

Once alone, Kei cleared his throat by chugging down the sweet liquid courage in his chalice before presenting his gift.

He looked over at his friend, whose face was painted golden by the fire, rosy by wine, silver by starlight. How Tadashi looked like every treasure man has coveted, clawed, and killed for is beyond even his scope of understanding. He had stopped trying long ago.

“Happy birthday, Yams,” said the prince softly.

Tadashi smiled. “Thank you, Tsukki. Today has been the first birthday I have truly enjoyed. 17 will be memorable to me, all thanks to you and Shimada. Thank you.”

Kei’s breath hitched, but bless him, he trekked on.

“Do not thank me yet. I haven’t given you your gift.”

“You got me a gift? You know you didn’t have to!” Tadashi’s face lit up.

“I wanted to. You know how Shimada and I have been training later than usual? I have actually enlisted his help in arranging this gift for you. I hope you like it.”

Kei shyly handed over a cloth sack to his companion, who grabbed it as though he were holding Zeus’s lightning bolt.

He held the object in his hand, gauging its weight before settling it on the ground to unwrap it. When he finally undid the cloth, he marveled at a relatively small vase painted gold and black. On it, there seemed to be several different figures drawn. Across it one could see painted stars and skies that changed as one made their way around the circumference of the vase.

“It is so beautiful,” said Tadashi breathlessly, unable to form any other sentiment which could grasp his gratitude.

“I know this vase is not a practical gift, exactly.”

“It is no matter! All that matters is that it is made by you! I will treasure it for my entire life. But, who are these figures? I don’t think recognize them?”

“They are various heaven and sky gods. There’s Eos. That’s Chronos. Atlas is there. And that one-that one’s Nyx. But these ones here…”

Kei’s fingers lightly brushed over Tadashi’s as he turned the vase. Luckily, both were so engrossed in the prince’s explanation, that they could not see how fiercely they both blushed.

“These two I painted with most detail. There’s Astraeus and Selene.” Kei looked at Tadashi, who gaped at him with a precious expression, one of awe and utter confusion.

“You don’t understand,” chuckled Kei.

Tadashi scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry. I know this might be generally considered common knowledge but, um-”

“Astraeus is the Titan god of the stars. Selene is the goddess of the moon. I was choosing between painting these gods and goddesses or the constellations. But this felt more tailored to my message.”

“Message?” questioned Tadashi, raising an eyebrow. Shifting his gaze back and forth between the vase and Kei.

“We know that the gods are imperfect. But, we continue to look to them because they have created the worlds around us. There is a god for just about everything. You know, even if my appearance reminds everybody of the sun, my name means moon. And, well, you have an array of constellations across your nose and your cheeks. The moon shines only because of a star.”

“Oh! Uh huh. Yes! Wow, this is so thoughtf-”

“But,” Kei cut him off. He looked Tadashi straight in his eyes as he spoke, “Most tend to look at the moon for hope. Each night one looks at the moon, projecting upon it the pressure of one’s own wishes, desires, regrets. But when travelers are lost, when even the most seasoned warriors are in need of guidance, they look to the stars for a way back home. And I wanted you to know…”

He trailed off, unknowing of what it was he wanted to say next. In that moment, he himself looked at the constellations overhead, hoping they would lead him to an answer.

 _“I will be this, always, for as long as you will let me,”_ said Tadashi, pulling Kei back from his own mind.*

Kei looked at Tadashi utterly shocked. Tadashi was crying and looking at Kei with the most tender smile he had ever seen. Tadashi put one hand on top of the prince’s and the prince was anchored once more.

Kei remembered how Tadashi mentioned that his father often reminded him that he was a simpleton, a weakling. But the boy before him was nothing of the sort. 

It was this. How Tadashi seemed to always understand the most veiled parts of him: the ones underneath prophecy, fate, expectation. How, whenever Kei seemed at risk of losing himself to the immortality of glory, Tadashi reminded him he was just a man. A man and his companion. What could be more glorious than that?

He could not think of any one god who could boast such a thing. 

“I do not know how to thank you any other way than that,” said Tadashi, pulling the prince in for a hug.

“Next year, can I pick my gift?” asked the prince.

“Sure, Tsukki.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***** - these sapphic fragments are written after this period but i am the author and this is my fiction heheheheh; *original line in the novel: “It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me.”
> 
> P.S. i know i switch between tsukki, kei, prince pretty often. in the future, i might rewrite to make it more consistent. apologies if that bothers you! 
> 
> okay i'm so so so excited for you to read the nxt chap!!! it's characteristic of me to leave an obscenely long end note, but today, i'll cut it short! thank you if you're still keeping up with this fic. we're almost halfway there HAHA! 
> 
> BTW i made a twitter @sou1case! i don't have any followers yet, but feel free to follow me!! i want to meet/chat with other fic writers/readers/hq fans!
> 
> comments and kudos are appreciated. much love! :)<3


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